monster
by Prelude in Indigo
Summary: Kevin Regnard was a murderer- a bloody white knight sheathed in tainted armor and that was the very thing he hated most about himself: he was dirty.  Pre-Abyss, Kevin Regnard-centric, ONESHOT!


**Uh… well… wow. o.o**

**I went angstified… you really didn't expect that, did you? xD Um… so… this is the stuff that my dark and twisted mind comes up with in the middle of the night. It's different than anything I've written before- not in the angst- I've written tons of angst… but this is probably the deepest thing I've ever written.**

**We all know that I love Break, so this was probably inevitable… Anyway, this takes place pre-Abyss, when Break is still Kevin Regnard, and it's essentially about his descent into insanity…**

**Enjoy. :3 Or, rather not- but I hope that this really makes you think.**

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They said that it was easy, really- those people with years of experience, men and women who had made that decision so many times it had stripped away what was left of their humanity- _because who would make such a decision?_

And in a way though, it was.

Just one word, one command, one command given that wasn't his to give but would certainly never be missed.

And so hard at the same time-

It was heavy though. The weight of the fact that he had _stolen_, taken away all these lives, these precious lives that were full of happiness and joy- at first, it was like waking up in the night to find that you weren't yourself, and something was wrong with you, something that _couldn't be fixed_. And he was a coward and a murderer and was he any better than the people he tried so hard to get revenge against?-

_Yes,_ he tried to convince himself- _yes. Not as bad- not as bad-_

But still bad enough.

_ **x x x x x x x x x x x x x**_

The first time Kevin Regnard killed, it was a criminal.

A man he had found wandering the streets with a knife in his grimy hand and a filthy smile marring his face as he leered at innocent girls walking home- and Kevin felt anger surging through him, so much _anger-_ and a need. A desperate want, a hunger.

The streets were dark and the girls had run, leaving just Kevin and the man- and this insatiable urge that compelled him, a sort of longing somewhere in the back of his chest- and he didn't know exactly what he wanted or even how to get it- but then, the voice came into his head. The voice that had been his constant companion for days now- moaning, moaning, about a hunger that he didn't know how to feed.

_Give me the word- just say that I can go- just say yes, my lord, and you'll be free and we'll be just a bit closer-_

And Kevin didn't understand quite what the voice was saying and he was overpowered by its yearning and maybe it was just a bit too late and he was a bit intoxicated by the sense of power that flooded him- _Yes._

_Yes_, he said, that fatal bomb dropping from his pale lips- _yes._

And then all that he heard was a scream and red and more red and a shining and a feeling of contentedness so powerful that when he woke he mourned its loss.

**_x x x x x x x x x x x x x_**

It wasn't until days later he remembered- he remembered. He was reading the news about a man gone missing in a blood-splattered alley where the only people around were two teenage girls. They had heard the scream and come rushing back to see what was wrong and all that was left was a bit of flesh and puddles of blood- the missing man was Garret Sullivan.

_Terrible_, Kevin had thought, and he leaned back in his chair, wondering about the man's family, his life his friends- _terrible_.

And it all came rushing back and there was still blood under his fingernails and he stared wide-eyed and relived the night- the monster that tore into Garret Sullivan's flesh, the cruel grin that seemed to stretch it's metallic face, and Kevin's own grin that mirrored it- _terrible._ The screams, the screams.

Kevin collapsed on the floor while his stomach emptied itself.

Was there anything harder than knowing you were a monster? Because he knew it- right then, he'd become a demon of the worst sort, a murderer and a hypocrite and it was bad enough that he had already lost everything, did he have to lose himself too?

_Why didn't you tell me_? He pleaded with the voice, his hands shaking and his mouth quivering –_that this was the price?_

And then the voice chided him and explained about the power- _did you really expect __Alice__ to be able to be able to save them all with nothing? I warned didn't I- yes, I did, I warned you... this is the price you pay. For Emily, for the Sinclairs… You can do this for the Sinclairs, can't you?_

_Kevin, the brave and valiant knight…_

He stilled himself and looked at his smooth creamy white hands- so pale, so pale- could he do this? Could he do it- _for Emily, for Emily, for that little girl who cried and clutched at him like he was her last hope-_

_Criminals_, Kevin breathed nearly silently, and he picked himself up. _Men who deserve to die._

_Of course, my lord,_ the voice said. And he didn't even stop to think about that patronizing tone of voice, that glimmer of greed and frustration-

**_x x x x x x x x x x x x x_**

The second time Kevin Regnard murdered- yes that was the word, _murdered-_ it was necessary.

They remembered him, those two girls- they had seen him, remembered him being in the alley- the strange man with the frighteningly sad eyes the precise color of blood, and the long, silky, white hair, white like innocence and beautiful pure snow- _lies_.

It was much the same- he had seen the girl and he recognized her and she recognized him, and they were all alone in the dark alley- he had been tailing her for miles, waiting to see where she led him to, while the voice in the back of his head clamored for attention and the dull ache started up again.

She looked at him with fear in her pretty blue eyes and Kevin's gaze narrowed while he tried to ignore the gnawing sensation at the corner of his heart. She looked at him like a monster. _That's right. I am._

The girl was brave too and her eyes didn't show what she was feeling, but Kevin knew- knew that firm set of mouth, determined eyebrows- and that made it harder.

_Scream,_ he cried. _Hit me. Cry. Call me a monster._

He hated that blind bravery.

**_x x x x x x x x x x x x x_**

She and her friend, the other girl, a sweet one with big and expressive green eyes and a tear-stained face, showed up in the news the next day- they had gone missing. No witnesses this time. Kevin was grateful for that. He didn't read the article- it was mostly about the two girls anyway, and he didn't need to know anymore than he already knew- no need, no need.

_For Emily,_ he reminded himself. _For Emily, it's all for Emily…_

And then he realized that he had not cleaned his hands and it disturbed him and it scared him that he should be thinking about that girl's blood under his nails- _a monster_. But the blood wouldn't get out of his mind- and _oh god this girl's blood was on his hands and he was thinking about cleaning them?_

He went into the washroom and he closed the door tight and he looked at himself in the mirror, with his dusky red eyes that had shadows beneath them, and his lying white hair and clean pale skin that betrayed nothing of his nature. _White and red._

The red, the red, he hated that red- like blood that covered him and the white he had once been so proud of. _Pure. Clean._ Lies. _Hate._ Kevin's face crumpled and he took the mirror down and held it.

For a minute he thought about smashing it in a million pieces- _those lovely spinning diamond shards, and the pain, red blood that would blossom and stain his deceptive pale skin- _he put the mirror face down on the counter.

Kevin turned on the sink faucet and splashed water all over his face, breath coming in short and quivery gasps. He grabbed the soap and scrubbed his hands underneath the cold water until his fingers were bright white and wrinkled, the skin like a newborn's, untainted- _lies_. Dirty, dirty, dirty-

Silent tears slipped down his face and joined the now soapy water and he couldn't move, because his hands were dirty, and he stayed like that, crying and washing his hands until Emily came hours later and turned off the faucet and stroked his back and guided him away.

She whispered sweet nothings in his ears and kissed his white cheek delicately and her small hands wrapped around his larger ones –_so warm-_ while she held him, and he remembered thinking wryly that something was backwards here. Ten they sat and talked the night away, because, they were still friends, like brother and sister, and they loved each other.

That was one thing that hadn't changed.

And Kevin held onto that memory for the longest time, until the end, when he couldn't remember much else.

**_x x x x x x x x x x x x x_**

The next day, Kevin Regnard found his fourth victim.

A handsome young man who was slapping his girlfriend across the face while she cringed in fear and her brown eyes searched around the street for an escape. Her eyes made contact with Kevin's beneath the hood he wore, and he felt a sense of familiarity washing over him.

Kevin stepped forward, keeping his face down, and touched the man's arm- he leered and spat but released the girl and turned to Kevin, confident in his youth.

The girl looked at Kevin with fear and he stared into he eyes. _Run,_ he begged silently. _Go._

She hesitated but took off, feet beating a light pattern against the cobblestone road and Kevin hoped and prayed she wouldn't come back- he wouldn't kill her, no, not the innocent, the girl would be spared.

The boyfriend smiled unpleasantly at Kevin and the anger overtook him and then the voice was back and he let the emotions coursing through him take control.

He was easy.

He was easy, and that should have been relief, but Kevin instead felt shame and fear run through him because he was scared of the day that he could kill and feel nothing- scared of becoming a monster, _though he already was._

And then he was ashamed, ashamed because of his fear, and because he knew that he should stop it here and he couldn't force himself to, this was all his own doing, and he was scared-

Then there was pain, physical pain, pain that he was grateful for. Grateful because it distracted him from the searing agony inside that place where his heart ought to be- and this pain was over his heart, etching a symbol into his skin, but he was relieved because physical pain he could deal with, but the pain of knowing what he was almost too much to bear.

_It's not enough time,_ the voice said.

And between crying tears of relief and clutching at his chest, Kevin managed to choke out, _Time for what?_

_Time, lord. Time. The clock is ticking on our time together, lord._

_What happens at the end of the clock? _He asked, relaxing, because the pain was gone. He looked down at his chest and was shocked to find a clock face. The arrow pointed to two o'clock.

_We go into Abyss._

_You will die._

Kevin's lovely blood red eyes widened and he sat up, heart racing- _die?_ He didn't want to die. It was selfish and it was foolish, but he didn't want to die..., no matter how much he deserved it- there was Emily to think about, and he loved life, even if he was a sinner of the worst sort, and in death there would no sweet things, no long talks with Emily into the night-

_Then you must feed me more, lord- I can't keep drawing this power from you, just feed me more, lord-_

**_x x x x x x x x x x x x x x_**

_Murder_.

It was a brutal word that caught on your lips and snagged on your throat on its way out, and it was somehow thrilling and delicious at the same time- the taste like blood- Kevin Regnard was a murderer.

The word suited the act.

Kill and assassinate, dispose of- those delicate words that high-class people, nobles who liked to play their little games and pretend that they were beautiful, used- it was just a cover, a sham for the things they were ashamed of, because no matter how much you tried to put a fancy spin on it, it always came down to the truth-

The brutal, sickening, shameful truth was that murder was murder and it was in everyone, no matter how much you tried to hide it; an animal act, made by someone who was maybe _not-quite-human-_

_Was_ he human anymore? He didn't know, just that he was going to fight- how could you fight against something like this though, how could you fight against the corrosion of your soul?

_Won't lose myself_, he said firmly, _won't forget who I am, won't change-_ and he lied and lied and lied until he had convinced even himself that he was right, and he was justified, because after all-_ hadn't he lost enough already?_

And then he realized that it was far too late-_ was it any wonder that he was like he was?-_ and he hadn't gone insane, no, he wasn't crazy, but, rather- his eyes had been _opened_.

And it really was a mad world after all.

**_x x x x x x x x x x x x x_**

They did well together.

The girl- she didn't die after all, and she lived to tell the story of a stranger in black with glowing red eyes who had murdered her boyfriend and left her free- and he became known as the Red-Eyed Ghost. A fitting name somehow, for a person like him- someone who had lost everything and was bound to his life only by a shadow and a longing.

Kevin's hand turned slowly, each step bringing him closer to that place where he was destined to end up one day and every time he devolved a bit more into madness, either from fear or for the power that flowed into his body like a lifeline, and it was _addicting_, so addicting- that gentle light that filled him for days after a kill-

And at first, he really tried to stick to his promises- only the criminals, only men who deserve to die, only those who were no good in life- but then he got hungrier and he had killed so many that he didn't suppose that just one more would matter, and eventually it didn't seem to matter so much anymore.

And he didn't see Emily again after the first day, because the shame was just too great, and he was afraid that she would be hurt; he tried his best to put the girl from his mind but she always managed to come back- so he killed more and more until he had almost entirely forgotten about her.

And so in this way, Kevin Regnard's time slowly ticked down while he lost himself inside the monster he had become and those among the dead swelled to a total of 118- _118-_ that had been brutally murdered.

They called him a murderer. And maybe he was.

**_x x x x x x x x x x x x x_**

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_~"At the end of the day, isn't insanity just something that the people who are sacred of knowing came up with, a term for those who can see the truth that others deny? A pretty farce for the ones who don't delude themselves- and they are shunned, because, after all, who dares to look the truth in the face?"~_

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**So, how did you like it?**

**To be honest, this kinda scared me… that I came up with something this twisted… but, I've been reading William Golding's Lord of the Flies, and if you've read that, then you should understand. :P **

**Also, I've been talking to Aquen, (Or, as you should call her, Acky! :P) so if you want to blame someone… blame HER! :P That girl could drive a squirrel nuts…ser… uh… I'll be going now! **

**Hope you enjoyed!**

**REVIEW!**


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